


Revels

by Mollyamory (Molly)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Benevolent manipulation, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, because Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly/pseuds/Mollyamory
Summary: Sam Wilson knows what he wants. He just needs... a little push.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, background Tony Stark/Pepper Potts
Comments: 21
Kudos: 45
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Revels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [entwashian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entwashian/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box Day!
> 
> I’m so glad I got this request. I’ve been toying with this pairing and setting in my head for a while — but like Sam, I needed a little push. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Housecleaning note — this story veers off from canon during the party at the start of Age of Ultron, never to return; and they all live happily ever after. :)

"If you don't hit that, I will."

Sam looked over at Stark, eyebrows rising. "Excuse me?"

Stark lounged comfortably against the bar, a faint amused grin lighting his face. It was kind of annoying. It was the kind of look that seemed to be inviting Sam to share a joke, but it was also the kind of look that said that joke might be on him. 

"Well, somebody's going to, right? Just look at him." Stark waved his bottle lazily toward the sofa at the center of the (giant, offensively expensive) room, where Steve was surrounded by a group of admirers of various genders in various states of worshipful appreciation. "Might as well be a friend."

Maybe Sam hadn't known Steve as long as the Superfriends he was shacked up with, but he'd seen the man at his best, and at his worst. This version, with the practiced smile and distant eyes, this was nowhere near his worst. But it wasn't anywhere near his best, either. 

"He's an adult," Sam tried, aiming for the kind of friendly disinterest a disinterested friend should show in the sex life of a friend he absolutely wasn't interested in. A glance at Stark suggested he hadn't quite stuck the landing.

"That he is." Stark's eyes roved across Steve's form in a not at all disinterested way; in a way that was, in fact, not at all respectful of the man's sovereignty in this regard. "But I mean, just barely, yeah? From his perspective he's what, twenty-something? Twenty-five, tops. And not exactly steeped in experience before he gave his all for God and country. Probably just needs a little push in the right direction. A little guidance from a _slightly_ older guy with an interest in his education." Stark took a long pull from his bottle, then set it down on the bar. "It's been a long time since the forties. He's got a lot to learn." 

Sam frowned. "Steve Rogers never needed a push from anybody. He can make up his own mind."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Stark gave up his studied slouch and pushed himself to his feet. Started _rolling up his sleeves_ for God's sake. "I'm just going to enlighten him about his options." Stark glanced over at him, eyes wide and innocent over an absolutely filthy grin. "There are so many, many options to explore in this brave new age of ours..."

Before could take even one step forward, Sam caught the back of his collar and yanked him back down to his seat. "Sit your ass back down, Stark," he said sourly, and handed the man his glass with enough force to slop expensive Scotch over the side. 

"What? You're not claiming dibs, are you, Wilson? I saw him first, so..." 

The protest was immediate and indignant, but Stark sat back down easily enough, and his eyes were too amused for his own good. Sam leveled a finger at him, eyes narrowing. "You are playing me. Don't think I don't see it."

"Don't think I'm bluffing," Stark shot back, laughing. He tossed back the rest of Sam's drink. "My respect for the uniform is on a very short timer."

"Don't think I won't kick your rich, white superhero ass if you mess with my boy," Sam said, and he was only half-way joking. Steve had been through a lot; some of it, he was still going through right now. If the last few months had taught Sam anything, it was that the guy behind that ridiculous shield took some looking after. 

And it was no job for a civilian, that was for damn sure.

"One foot in front of the other, soldier," Stark said kindly, clapping him on the shoulder and giving it a rough shove. "Go get your boy. Clock's ticking."

~

It was a _little_ easier said than done. First there was the extraction; Steve's fans were very determined. The way Steve's eyes lit up when he came to the rescue, Sam couldn't blame them. It was the first real pleasure he'd seen on Steve's face since the pack descended on him, and Sam was proud to the core to be the man who put it there.

Squaring his shoulders, Sam went in with a serious expression meant to imply authority and gravitas. He cleared his throat, and when all the heart-eyes turned to focus on him, he held up his wrist and tapped at his watch significantly. "Captain, it's time," he said with a grave nod. 

Steve's eyes widened. "Already? Gosh." He stood up and cast an apologetic smile on his adoring audience. "I'm sorry, I have a... uh... meeting?" 

Sam nodded again. "Yes, sir."

"A meeting with Agent... I mean, Ms. Hill, who is... right over there." Steve gestured vaguely in the direction of the pool table, where Agent Ms. Hill was busy taking all of James Rhodes' money and looking good doing it. He shrugged helplessly. "I just lost track of the time. I hope I can catch up with each of you later."

After that shameless display, they were all more than ready to forgive him. Steve pushed through the ranks and let Sam steer him away -- not in Hill's direction, though Sam doubted anybody would care. They washed up near the railing that overlooked the lower floor of Stark Tower's party hub, and Sam noted with some relief that Steve had lost a little of that hunted look that tightened up his face right around the eyes. 

"I imagine that himbo schtick got you out of a lot of trouble back in the day," Sam said approvingly. 

Steve grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Airman. I'm new around here, you know. Maybe you could explain it to me?"

"Heart of gold, head full of muscle; ring any bells?" Sam shook his head, laughing. "Whatever works, right?"

"I appreciate the rescue. It was getting a little warm over there." Steve let the act drop and gave Sam a real smile, the kind that had him ready to take on SHIELD, Hydra, the Winter Soldier ... whatever Steve needed. 

"Thought you might need an exit strategy. People in this century -- especially people who come to Tony Stark's parties -- aren't really known for taking things slow."

"You always have my back, don't you." Steve turned his body and the full weight of his attention toward Sam. 

Sam's breath stuttered; that was _not_ a friendship look. Not in any century, not by any measure. His body responded to it by shifting into red alert status, tense and still and more than a little ready to run if the situation called for it. Ready, he realized with some alarm, to _not_ run if the situation called for it. Definitely about a hundred percent ready for that. 

"Sam?" Steve's voice was warm, and some of that look was fading out of his eyes, replaced by concern. "Did I say something... something wrong?" A little line had formed between his eyebrows and Sam instantly wanted to soothe it away with his fingers. 

"No, man, sorry." He cleared his throat and tried to smile. "Just -- I came over here specifically to have your back. You were about to get some attention I wasn't sure you wanted."

Steve's frown deepened. "Yeah? Who--"

"Don't look, but..." Sam jerked his head over toward the bar -- casually, he thought, smooth. He'd have gotten away with it. But Steve Rogers, iconic status not withstanding, was not smooth. Kinda the opposite. He looked, because of course he did. 

Sam closed his eyes and let out an exasperated breath. "Steve. Did I not just tell you --"

"What? There's nobody over there I know, except for Tony, and --" Steve's eyes went impossibly wide. " _Tony?_ No." 

Sam shrugged. "You didn't hear it from me."

"No, I mean. No." Steve tugged Sam around and pointed, which, okay, now they had definitely left smooth far, far behind. So Sam looked where Steve was pointing and there was Tony Stark, sitting on the bar stool where Sam had left him. Only now, he had his arms, legs, and most of his face wrapped around a woman with strawberry blonde hair in spiked heels and a royal blue dress cut down to her hips in the back. 

"Whoa." Sam's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. Bright side, there was no way Stark had seen Steve pointing him out. "That happened fast."

Steve laughed. "That's been happening for years." At Sam's blank look, Steve added, "That's Pepper Potts." 

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't pin it down. "Okay...so?"

"So, Pepper's been running Tony's business -- running _Tony_ \-- since before he was Iron Man. He's crazy in love with her. And for whatever reason, she seems to love him back. If Tony even thought about trying anything on with me, she'd kill him first, then me, and then probably you for standing next to me. Trust me, whatever you think you saw...there's nothing there."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "It's not what I think I saw; it's what I know he said."

"What did he say?" Steve asked, his gaze sharpening. He was so damn smart, that was one of the things Sam loved about him. Too damn smart. "What did Tony say that got you on your feet?"

"Why do you care?" Sam countered. "Maybe there's nothing there, but is there something over here?"

"I just want to know what to put in the thank-you card," Steve said. "Why do _you_ care?"

"Because I do!" Sam had never been less than honest with Steve, so he didn't have the right set of instincts keep it in or walk it back; he just let the momentum carry him right over the line of plausible deniability. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. He really wished he'd held on to that Scotch. "I care."

Steve took a step closer. He was getting pretty close to the line of plausible deniability himself. "You do?" he asked, dropping his voice low. "You do."

Sam put some steel into his spine and met Steve's look head-on. "Yeah. Yes. Come on, man, you know I do; I'm not exactly hard to read."

"You can be," Steve said quietly. "About some things." He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking less like the guy Sam had followed into battle and more like a guy who might, just possibly, be a little insecure about his place in the world. In _Sam's_ world. 

"Well, I do. I just wasn't sure if you--"

"Oh, I do. Too. I do." 

There was that last step. Right across the line. Steve Rogers, bravest man in the world, tripped and fell over that line and landed with his hands on Sam's shoulders, pulling Sam into his space. Sam looked up -- why'd he have to be so _tall_ , this was never going to work, guy was a skyscraper and Sam was a little three-story walk-up, how was that fair? -- he looked up, and found Steve's crazy smile, those blue eyes dark with intent, and he decided he could make it work. He had wings, after all, and if that wasn't enough -- well, he was pretty sure Steve was worth the climb.

Steve shifted impossibly closer, and slid his hands up to cup Sam's face. "This all right?"

Sam nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"I need to hear it," Steve murmured. He sounded apologetic, and a little distracted. Sam was distracted, too; he could feel Steve's breath against his mouth, almost -- almost close enough. "Nat said vocal, enthusiastic consent is the standard in this century, so --"

"I consent enthusiastically," Sam said with the very last breath he could spare, then hooked a hand around the back of Steve's neck and surged up to prove it.


End file.
